Magic
by drama fixated
Summary: She looks up and feels her heart still. Drabble. [Mary x Dickon]


**Disclaimer: **The Secret Garden isn't mine; it's all Frances Hodgson Burnett's. The only thing I own is this drabble.

**Author's Note: **Hi all. It's been a while since I've uploaded anything...I'm sorry. I was busy with school (since I'm a senior this year) and I couldn't go online, let alone write. However, my "senior stuff" is pretty much done, so I'll be on a lot more often. And that means more fic for you all to read. Yay! (?)

This drabble is...weird, to say the least. It also contains a bit of angst and it's kinda...sappy. If that's not your thing, then click the back button on your browser now.

It was an attempt on my part to get rid of my writer's block. Did it work? Read the ficlet and decide for yourself.

- - -

Magic touches Mary. And never lets go.

She knows that times have changed. Things are not like what they used to be.

Including the three of them who swore to stay and be young forever. _MaryDickonColin_.

Even _he _changed, she muses, sadly staring out the window. (_In some ways he remained the same._) The moor greets her, beckoning her to go out and play, to run and laugh again. To be alive.

She wishes she could change time and go back to being happy and carefree. Where all she cared about was a concealed garden waiting for the right time to bloom . . when she discovered long buried secrets . . and bought life back to the moor and Misselthwaite. She needs to escape from everything. She doesn't want to be a lady - to be grown up.

_Not yet. Not yet._ Silently she pleads._ It's too soon. I am dead. I need to feel alive again. I forgot that feeling._

Already Colin's acting like a gentleman - the selfish hypochondriac she had yelled at once was gone. He seems like a stranger. She doesn't know this Colin at all.

_She_ doesn't even know herself anymore.

Dickon doesn't either.

She can see it in the way his eyes linger on her, _slightly slightly _and then eventually look away. (_As if it hurts to look at her._)

He's going further, further away from her until she can no longer reach him anymore.

And she hates it.

- - -

She finds herself thinking about _him._ It's ironic, almost...how things have changed. She had always thought they would be friends forever and forever until the end of time.

Life had proven her wrong.

Time went on. They grew up too early - all three of them. Yet it was inevitable; gradually they pursued different interests and the secret garden was forgotten.

Only two remembered. She herself had almost forgotten it...but the garden brought with it memories of Dickon, and those neither she nor time could wash away.

Magic wouldn't let her go. It wanted her to live. If she grew up, she would be dead.

_I feel dead already . . . so it won't be long before I start to act lifeless too. _She realizes.

_I've forgotten how to live._

_ - - - _

She feels suffocated. _I need to breathe._

So she goes out to the garden.

Disappointment envelops her - _Dickon's not here._

She's relieved. And at the same time torn on the inside.

She wanted to see him badly; so badly her heart ached. He had bought life back into the garden . . . and into the Cravens' lives. He had made everyone _alive._ Including her.

While Colin had transformed from a spoiled cripple into a confident, ambitious boy, Mary herself had changed too. No longer was she sour and quite contrary. She was happy and vivacious; she was life itself.

_All I knew before was how to die,_ she muses. _I suppose the same thing could be said for Colin too. We were dead to the world. But Dickon . . . He changed all that._

_All he knows is how to live. And he bought us back to life._

So lost she is in her thoughts that she doesn't notice the sound of soft footsteps on the grass. Until she senses a familiar presence.

She looks up and feels her heart still.

Magic tugs at her and she finds herself walking forward slowly, almost agonizingly, towards him.

Dickon's eyes are shining - they're the deepest blue she's ever seen. He gives her that one smile that always makes her heart do a little jolt.

Mary's never felt more alive.


End file.
